The Divining Pool
by Zaraezyne
Summary: Legend tells of the Vale of Shadows, a lush valley hidden in the mountains that holds a sacred pool with the power to make dreams reality. The Pool is considered a myth. A group sets out seeking to find this pool, seeking answers to their worst pains and and hope to overcome the greatest odds.
1. Chapter 1

_Not giving up on my story Shadowdancer, still working on it. this is from an RP that is in progress, still rough, but maybe of interest; Concerning one of my original characters._

_set in forgotten realms, but mostly original characters. and of course thoughts, opinions, criticism, ect welcome_

* * *

Legend tells of the Vale of Shadows, a lush valley hidden in the mountains that holds a sacred pool with the power to make dreams reality. Many seek this place searching for answers to the deepest questions of their heart and soul. Others for less noble reason. The Pool is considered a myth, a story that has been passed down through the generations.  
Few have been successful enough to find it. And those who have no longer live, remember, or  
They keep such secrets carefully guarded lest it fall into the wrong hands. Over time the stories, for the most part, have been forgotten.

**XXOXX**

A cool breeze blew thru the tree's browning leaves. The creek was calming and unusually high, the last rains having filled it. It was still early, nearly dawn in Bitterleaf; a small forest town, if it could be called a town at all. The sun's slivers of orange just peaking above the horizon. A few candles burned in cottages, people rising early to start another day. A day to prepare for the end of autumn and start of winter.

The senile old druidess sat on the wooden bench of her small cottage; her eyes seamed glazed over, milky orbs staring into some distance. Old scars that looked like burns covered her face and around those unfocused eyes. She leaned back to sniff the air, listening as soft boots neared.

Everyone of the town knew, she had claimed to have 'seen it' the famous Pool with her own eyes. Unfortunately, she was considered delirious and demented by everyone tho mostly harmless. But the hardy people did enjoyed the stories she told of times past. Early when she moved to this place a few had tried to find this Diving Pool, and had never been seen again. The mayor had banned any from searching and speaking of this legand.

Not that it stopped foolhardy youth.

A cloaked older elven man walked past her porch, a morning grunt, and the closest to a greeting he was willing to give to the old woman this morning, continuing to the largest building. A stone building that served as a temple, council hall, and school. Outside the oak door was a billboard. He nailed a paper on top of the oldest sheets. Most were small jobs- clearing out pest, searching for lost items, or searching for people to hire for the harvest to come in the next couple weeks. He glanced back to the druidess, a glare that she wouldn't see, then headed further into town to a large shop.

**XXOXX**

the stone building seams simple to most; yet it was sturdy and well build despite its plain appearence. the grey stones used in it's construction differed from all the wooden buildings save the temple. This two story building was a popular haunt for both the town folk and travelers. Plus it was the only inn and tavern within a hundred miles. A 4 ft wide porch encircled the building with a few small tables out front. Above the red door was a carved wooden sign swaying in the wind.  
The Gaping Maw Inn and Tavern, the name a joke started long ago, sat on the eastern side of the town. the owner a short fat man, who almost appears dwarvish in stature and mannerism, was known for his love of food and talk. He and his family had ran the business since the founding of Bitterleaf.

On the first floor was the tavern. The inside walls were local wood, brown and warm, often mismatched due to the wavy grain, but each plank had been planed to a perfect fit. Tapestries dotted the walls in between the evenly spaced windows. The center of the wide room was hanging a large antler chandelier. Thirteen varying sized tables, spaced randomly, rested about the main body of the room, each capable of sitting from two to eight patrons with allowances for size. To the right of the doorway the bar stood, made of a deep red wood. It was long, covering the distance from the wall in which the doorway stood, all the way to the stairway. In its middle, a formed and joined drop hatch bridged a small gap. behind the bar led to the wonderful kitchen that served the local dishes. On the opposite wall of the bar was located a small stage where performers could entertain guest. Stairs led to the top floor, which contained 15 average size rooms, each with a full size bed and small tub.

the fire burned low, the nearly charcoal logs scenting the room and mixing with the smells of breakfast meats cooking. The floor was relatively empty, only a few patron out and about this time of the morning. Most were sound asleep on the floor above. the sun was filtering in as it was rising above the horizon. A thin woman of tanned skin and dark hair wiped the bar down while gathering the empty glasses. Another waitress, tall and thick built older woman, walked around to take breakfast orders. From the kitchen came a load clangging of pots and a voice of someone fussing over the newly created mess.

A strange figure stood in the dim corner of the Gaping Maw Inn and Tavern, he chose this particular corner simply for the fact that the figure could study everyone in the room currently., He learned long ago that for someone of his particular talents, anyone could be a potential assassin or conspirator in some plot.

"_Kill them now you fool_" echoed a voice only he could hear, "_Kill them all, nobody will miss a few pathetic farmers and wenches._"

Once again he fought back the voice, fought back it's temptous suggestions, more then once he had given into it and those times he both relished and was abhorred by what he had done. He came to call this voice "The Raven" because of it's unnatural craving for death and carnage, much like the foul carrion bird.

He had not given anyone in this town his name, it provided a minor degree of protection, from his experience names granted some degree of power, he simply signed the inn's ledger as Rodger Smith a traveling minstrel. Nobody could know who he truly was, not only would it put him in grave danger yet again, but it may cause the death of innocent lives. He shuddered at the memory of the first time he gave into "The Raven", how his blade sang with his victim's blood, the blood of his own family and friends, the entire village gone in a matter of minutes. As always as when he though about that occurrence, he fought back, both vomit and tears. His own wife and newborn daughter slaughtered by his hand, the same hand that worked, in the shadows to protect them.

The inn keeper approached him now, he wondered if the man was a spy or just came to make a simple request of him,"_Perhaps there is a wench he needs flayed_" spoke "The Raven".

He entered a deep bow as the inn keeper stepped in front of him "Thank you kind sir for the hospitality you have shown me, the food and drink is,most enjoyable".

The inn keeper simply grunted and motioned to the, space he had a few of the bar maids clear, minutes ago, apparently this man expected him to perform, which was no problem, he had a natural gift for storytelling and music. He quickly strode over to the space now reserved for him and produced a simple harp, and with a flourish began to play a very familiar and personally painful tune. The same tune that he had used to court his now deceased wife and as a lullaby for his baby girl as well.

"_Do not worry my friend_" spoke yet another voice, one that he dubbed "The Mourner", "_You will see them again, continue to keep hope, there maybe ways to bring them back_."

He was sure that his eyes weren't the only ones glistening by the end of the song, he quickly recovered his composure and continued his performance, taking requests that he knew and even danced with a few of the local women.

After awhile he turned to them, to tell him local legends, one peaked his interest in particular, told in hushed tones and kept from lawful ears; this old lady who claimed to have seen this "Divining Pool", a mystical power so great that it could make peoples dreams come true. He managed to gather that much information before the others hushed the speaker. He bowed to his audience and apologized claiming that he needed some fresh air, his thoughts were clearly elsewhere as he made his way to the door. As he opened the door he collided with a female figure. "I'm sorry miss I didn't see you there" he curtly stated adding a deep bow for emphasis, he straightened and waited for her to respond to his apology.

**XXOXX**

From within the druidess' house came another scream, same ones she heard all night from her unexpected and temporary guest.

She bolted up from the bed to her own screams; her body covered in a slight sheen of sweat and damp tangled hair matted to her head. The also damp blanket was tangled around her form and half on the floor. She tried to catch her breath, her mind still in that past, and fight them off.

The green lizard edged twords the girl, having gotten use to this common occurance. She cautiously nudge skin, hoping to bring the girl back to the present while sending simple telepathic words to wake up.

After a few moments, the fighting stopped, and she sat there out of breath and hoarse. Gazing quickly around the room she realized that it had just been another nightmare. Slowing her breath as much as she could she pulled the blanket to free her feet and place them onto the wooden floor. The young sorceress ran a hand thru her hair, or tried before giving up. One hand went to her chest, a dull throb now coming to her consciousness. The night shirt, hanging very loose showed part of the ugly wound that mocked and reminded her every moment of her life. A scar that ran from her clavicle across her chest to her bandage around her ribs rubbed against the raw fresh wound that left her here in this place. Limbs tingled as the last remnents of the poison or magic or whatever they used worked its way from her system.

On a short dresser was a large ceramic bowl full of water, beside it a small towel. On the back of the dresser a dust old mirror with a few cracks on the edge. Water was splashed on her face, an attempt to wipe away the redness, the sweat, and mostly the thoughts from her. Not that anything could remove the inner pain and turmoil of her soul. A glance up into the mirror was a mistake, and not thinking, punched it. The sturdy mirror cracked, a few pieces shattering. Her hand was cut up and no doubt the woman outside heard, but the girl didn't care at the moment. So she just did as she normally did, put up mental wall, a mask to hide behind and would go about life as she always did.

Turning to face the bed, she went about searching for her stuff, promising excruciating pain and burning down everything owned if even one thing was out of place, had been touched and especially missing. It was bad enough that whoever dwelt here saw her so vulnerable and weak. That these people had to help her, to rescue her, some less willingly.

Quickly dressed, hair in braid, and ready to leave, the sorceress scooped up the violet eyed lizard and placed her on her shoulder before stepping into the living room, dressed, packed and ready to get away from this place as soon as possible. The door to the cottage was open, and the sorceress saw the woman on the porch.

"I liked that mirror," the druidess called with some sarcasm, "now what are we going to do about that?"

The girl mentally cursed, the foolishness; then set her jaw firm and crossed her arms, "I'm not paying for it," her tone holding a bit of sarcasm also. "I didn't ask for your help," expecting the druidess to say that the sorceress owed her.

The druidess half chuckled, knowing more than the sorceress wished for anyone to know. Delirious and night terrors revealed enough, albeit unwillingly. But any pity or sorrow was kept to herself. No drow would accept such emotions, and the drow before her even less so. The old woman understood more than she wished. She stood up and headed inside and stopped at the door, likewise crossing her arms.

The sorceress raised a snowy brow, her fingers flexing and thinking she was going to have to attack the senile woman before her if she wanted to get away.

"I have a better idea," the druidess spoke, "I want to hire you to do some work," she started then quickly added, "not charity," tone harsh to emphasize the self nature of the request. "A few in the inn have already been hired. Maybe a job is something you would be up for? I pay well," a strange grin on her face.

The sorceress stopped her fingers and considered the request.


	2. Chapter 2

Inriia followed the druidess, her steps uneasy with a residual pain was still throbbing thru her body. She tried to shake the feelings out of her limbs as well as keep her self upright, on her own.

"I feel like I've been smacked around by a giant," she half whispered, half complained to the lizard.

The town rumors already spread a few days back of the rescued dark elf, so many had known of her presence in Bitterleaf; the town leadership allowed the druidess to help the then unconscious sorceress, with much hesitancy.  
A few stored opened the blinds and readied for the day. Another wagon, full of fishing equipment passed as it turned down the path twords the creek. The old woman walked as if she could see as any other person, avoiding a passerby of a wagon, and side stepping a rut. Inriia had to wonder what ability allowed blind woman to see. Some type of bat like radar? Folks were heading to work and any in their path gave the two a wide girth, mostly because the unwanted 'guest.'  
The sorceress and old druidess stepped up onto the porch, the woman pausing to glance around to the few patrons sitting outside enjoying a plate of eggs and ham. The husband waved to the woman then returned to his conversation.  
Just as she was grabbing the door, it opened to a young man who nearly crashed into her. She only smiled to his apology and move to let him pass by if he wished, "No apologies needed."

The man noticed her eyes, a feature that stood out like a lamp in pitch blackness and this was the woman he had been hearing of. While ease-dropping on conversations, he also heard of the woman hiring, with great payment, for a dangerous job. He looked beyond her, to the cloaked elven female. Magic, he clearly sensed magic far stronger then his oozed a aura of it; as he rose from the bow he bit off a silent curse.

The Raven chuckled wildly "_Oh a drow, haven't killed one of those in awhile, did you forget what they did to that village, how sweet it felt to release me? I could do it_" spoke the evil voice "_I could slaughter her in a way that would cause the even the vilest to shudder_."

His first thought was to draw his daggers, but he quickly suppressed that thought knowing that unless he released the madman and his love for death, he would die. It was then, his perceptive senses picked up a sense that not all was right with the dark elven girl standing there. He noted her face was rather pale, the braid her hair was pulled into a bit of a mess, but mostly her crimson eyes that read something so simular.

Inriia, not caring about etiquette or grace, brushed past him and the druidess almost rudely, into the Inn. As Inriia stepped in, the entire floor fell silent; all eyes went to the black skin silver haired sorceresss. Most sent a hand to their hilts in preparation for a fight. the short establishment owner stepped from behind the counter, hands before himself preparing to neutralize the threats or defend himself. He needed no weapon, trained in the martial arts with hands as deadly as a blade.  
With an accent nearly dwarf-like, "We want no troubles 'ere miss," peeking around the thin drowess to the old druidess in the doorway.  
The old woman nodded back to him indicating the dark elf was with her, and he hesitantly agreed, stepping back. He couldnt hide his nervousness, but motioned for the patrons of the tavern to lower weapons and stand down, tho ready.  
"I be watchin' you, dont ye doubt," the man replied, "just even one hint, and that's it!" his arms crossing before him, staring into her eyes to show he meant business and did not fear her.  
The patrons did not move, tho watching her, somewhat returned to their business.  
Inriia sighed and rolled her eyes, but so worn out and still weak, she had no desire to fight- weapons, magic, or words. She turned to wait for the old woman to enter well aware of everyone's unease and readiness.

But no one needed worry. She didnt care either way for any of them, ill or good; Inriia was only still here for the job, or rather the coinage.

'Rodger' turned his attention to the woman in front of him, the one who had seen the Divining Pool; this woman could have been pretty at one point in her life, before whatever tragedy had befallen her. Underneath the surface he could sense a madness not unlike his own. He quickly shuffled out often old woman's way and then proceeded to follow her.

The druidess headed to a table with two others, a half elven woman dressed in mithril chain and beside her a human warrior in thick studded leather armor. They smiled as the old woman 'spotted' them and came over to sit.

"Blood and ashes" the man who was calling himself 'Rodger' muttered under his breath; he would have to work with one of the things he hated most, already he had to resist the urge to kill her. He quickly grabbed a chair for the old woman. He truly meant no offense, he was just to kind for his own good. Inriia, with some reluctance, took her seat furthest from the group, a scowl still on her weary face. 'Rodger' pulled a seat up for himself and sat down across from the warrior, silently studying the drowess, quickly making note of any possible weapons, as well as escape routes should things come to blows.

Her eyes made him stop though, as he gazed into crimson orbs, there was something there he had never seen in any other drow so profoundly: pain... a pain so deep that it didn't seam possible. "_It's a trick_" he thought, the drow were notoriously deceitful, and at that moment a memory that wasn't his own played in his head.

A drow priestess stood above the human woman, uttering dark chants to it's god as it carried on with it's profane ritual, the drow turned as if he was there, and flashed a wicked smile as it plunged the knife into her chest.

When he snapped out of it he realized he was silently uttering a language long dead, his fair white skin was drenched in sweat and his jet black hair was disheveled; he shook his hair to refocus, the usual shade of sky blue of his eyes had changed to blood red, as it did every time these invasive memories occurred. As his eyes quickly changed back he motioned for a bar maid to bring him a cold hard drink and waited for whatever the old woman had to say.

the waitress interrupted by setting a cold glass before Roger with a plate of freshly cook oven roasted wheat bread in the table center. A plate of eggs and bacon was set before warrior, and a bowl of steaming oatmeal before the half elf cleric. A glass of milk was set before Inriia with a plate piled with bacon, eggs, and fruit, before she turned on her heals to another table.  
Inriia didnt wait and began to devoured her meal.

"I am sure you are ready for me to spill the details," the old druidess replied after a long pause.

She tilted her head slightly to consider her words. The waitress returned and set a ceramic cup before the old woman, it's contents basically black and steamy. Long bony fingers held the hot cup of coffee before she began,

"A farmer found a possessed tablet in his field a few moons back, went on a killing rampage, took out three farmer families before fleeing. Soldiers, and sturdy men have tried, but have been unable to bring him back. Word is he hiding in a dragon graveyard. And rumors," she laughed, "that that place is haunted by ghostly-dragon guardians. Of course rumors also say that here it contains the treasure of a dozen hoards," again a scoff, rambling about probability. "you know how kids are." She adjusted some, a slight sadness to her face despite her eyes, "I truly wish no harm to him. We hope our priest can cure the farmer. But in reality, I understand what might have to be done. So if possible and preferably, alive." She released a breath with another heavy sigh, "I'll pay 5000 gold for his return as well as the tablet. I do warn yall, that tablet is not to be taken lightly. If you happen to find any treasure, it's yours." Then she thought about it, "unless there is anything with this," pulling out a carved ivory necklace. The design had a rearing dragon, wings opened; around it was archaic lettering of an ancient language. Inriia, who spoke and read in the draconic language found it similar, but not any thing she recognized. the druidess paused to allow questions.


	3. Chapter 3

The human warrior studied the small necklace trying to figure out the writing, mental wheels trying to grasp what possible significance that symbol was to the old woman.  
"Why would there be anything of that when you imply no treasure from your rant," finally voicing his thoughts.  
The druidess looked to them, "It's a family thing. Sentimental I guess one could say." Tho there was something she was hiding. but any further questioning was cut off.

"Ghosts, demons, dragons, whatever it is I don't care" 'Rodger' across from the warrior spoke, "It will be taken care of," quickly studying his current garb and equipment, deciding he would have to grab a few new daggers and retrieve a very special item hidden away in his pack.

"Coins are an advantage for getting things done," Inriia smarted off.

The druidess turned to face the sorceress, "Coins do seam to catch one's attention far quicker than anything," her voice neutral and was undecipherable wheather there was disappointment or not by such a thought process.  
The woman did have to hope that at least one of the group might be doing this for the farmer's sake. And she wasnt counting on the dark elf to be that one.

"So would you care to give us exact directions and tell us how we are to handle this tablet? As far as I can tell from what you have told us, it drives people mad," 'Rodger' continued.

He had experience with objects such as these, that's where this whole mess with "The Raven" and the others who frequented his mind and body came from; it all started when he fell into a pool of pure magic known as "The Eye of the World", which his family was in charge of guard. That was the same night "The Raven" took control and slaughtered his family. Since then he had managed some extent of control from these beings that possessed him. Once he even tried to have them exorcized from him, the priest went insane and began to call him "Legion." Only a deity or some other divine miracle could remove them. Until he found a way to rid himself of these personalities, he would make sure nobody else would such a curse.

"yes directions will be provided along with a map. See Pyoro, our town priest before yall leave; he'll be in the temple till about noon. He will grant you some supplies for the tablet acquisition. as well as..." pausing to think of the name of the woman, finger tapping her lip, "oh, the fat woman who owns the shop near the temple," both hands off the coffee cup and moving to show how big.

A waitress had been passing by just at that time, "Sheila will chew you out she hears you talking about her that way."

"Really?" the old woman feigning ignorance, "I thought she knew she was a heifer," then laughed, or more came out like a hacking wheeze.

the warrior and the cleric looked at each other but since they knew all too well the old woman's reputation, they were not surprise. The fact that a dark elf had been recruited been the biggest surprise. An argument that ended with the couple finally giving up, grudgingly.

"I'm Cassio," the warrior introduced himself, "this is Lynet," motioning to his half elven companion.

'Rodger' hesitated as eyes turned to him. He knew that if he gave this group his false name there would be trust issues and with the quest, the drowess, and worrying about everything would make this even more difficult. Equally troubling was the weight behind his name and title.

"for now call me "Masque"," looking around the tavern floor as if expecting someone to jump out then.

The focused shifted the young drowess as she gobbled down another piece of bread along with her full plate. For someone so skinny, she sure could eat. The lizard had climbed down to the sorceress' lap, tho had a hard time resting considering Inriia's leg bouncing. Eventually Zarstra gave up and climbed into the bag to rest.

Inriia looked up upon another sip of her milk, "oh is this where folks give their sob story?" her tone sarcastic, hinted with anger and a mix of something else. The words were accented enough to imply this wasnt her first language, but clear enough with dialect slang words to show she been a surface born drow. "Inriiaynrae Jaelre," she said at last with her full name. Not too worried people this far from her home heard of the name, or reputation, of Jaelre.

The innkeeper walked over then. An old rolled parchment was pulled from his pouch and set before the old woman. He knelt down to whisper in her ear then turned on his heels and headed to the back. The rolled paper was slid over to Masque. The old woman gave her name, or rather what she was called by, "_Nymilja_." 'Crazy' in elvish, thanks to Pyoro.

"This here's the map. Try to not show it around town. We got foolish youth here who are too easily tempted, and ignorant to know they are not qualified."

The glass empty, Inriia leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked.  
"Let me get this straight," she began. "You put us together, hoping we will be 'buds' and work together, march into a place of dead but not dead dragons, whack some stupid human for touching an object of power he had not clue of, and bring back this same object? not to mention hope we are not driven insane or mad in the process and hope that we dont steal it for ourselves?" Inriia paused as if to let the woman speak again, leaning back in the chair, then continued, "Alright. I'm in. Tho whacking an imbecile might would have been done for less."

The last sentence added for no real reason any could guess; but Inriia looked at each person at the table in the eyes as if to study their reactions. The druidess scowled at the blunt sorceress, tho her summary wasnt too far off, if the motivations for such a task were off the mark. She couldnt see the half smug look Inriia was giving her, so she just ignored the sorceress.

Masque quickly put the map into his pocket before any trouble came from the girl's mouth and stood up to indicate they depart soon.

"Well then I suppose it is about time we get going, now let me make sure I got this right" as he pointed to the two others "Your Cassio, Lynet and last but not least Inriia" spoke Masque. He quickly turned to examine Inriia one last time before turning quickly heading upstairs to grab his gear from his pack. the couple across from Masque likewise got up from their seat to retrieve their belongings.

Before Masque disappeared upstairs, the druidess reached out to grab his arm, pull his ear down to her mouth level and whisper a message to him, and him alone, "_I know. This is but one step twords what you seek. The map has just a peek. Dont step thru the gate, for your fate is intertwined with that which you hate._"  
Maybe it was more ramblings from the senile woman, or maybe despite her apparent blindness was perceptive beyond possible. He said nothing as he followed behind Cassio and Lynet.

The woman, left alone with Inriia, turned to face the sorceress a hand placed atop the drowess' own; Inriia flinched and jerked her hand away from the unexpected touch, preparing to exit quickly but was stopped by the words that came next. For, as she had with Masque, she spoke some cryptic statement for her alone, "_This pain and shame your bear, will consume you, you fear. Your dark desire, tho honest, is a hole. It will not fix your damaged soul."_

Inriia quickly recovered her surprise at the words with shake of her head, then hurried out the door to stand on the porch. Her hood was over her face to protect her eyes from the bright morning. By now the sun was up over the tree line, all shops open, and the busy day well under way.

**XXOXX**

As Masque grabbed a few of his things he paused and looked into the small mirror. "I don't know why" Masque mused, "this drow seems different from those I have encountered, still arrogant as… but somehow, something is different."

"The Raven" merely laughed at his rambling. "_The only difference is that the wench is still alive_" commented "The Raven." Masque once again shut the voice up as he changed into a more appropriate garb, his dark brown trousers and forest green shirt were quickly replaced by a black cloak, midnight blue shirt and trousers. As he finished donning his garb, he made a quick mental note of which daggers were which and what poisons he still had, coming to the realization that his stock was very limited. He grabbed one more item from his pack, then headed back downstairs to an awaiting warrior and cleric. His face asked the question, Lynet indicating the drowess was outside. Masque motioned for Cassio and Lynet to follow him. Their first stop would be the shopkeeper, and hopefully she would be able to provide everything he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

the shop was easy to spot, it's name not too original: "Shelia's Wares and Tares" on a sign outside the door. Like all the shops, the building was wood, re-enforced with metal and stone. Inside was what any traveler needed. Shelves of supplies ranging from scuba gear to camping gear, from harnesses and ropes, to waterskins and even desert ware. This town after all was the only one in a hundred miles of forest. The other half of the store carried the basics of armor and weapons, tho well crafted and sturdy weapons.

Lynet and Cassio spent time gathering some cold weather gear, knowing that each day was cooler than the day before. They also restocked their foods and basic supplies while Sheila help Masque purchase a few daggers that suited him. Inriia likewise restocked her stuff, noting the winter wear the couple had acquired and also grabbing a winter cloak. Cassio, upon paying for his gear, walked next door to the alchemist, returning just as the 3 were departing, handing Lynet a bag containing a dozen vials. If they were to fight dragon ghosts, and he hopped not, then being prepared for that was important for this mission.

The four left the store and headed to the outskirts where the temple stood. It was two stories high, crafted of large stones like that of the Inn. however, more work and art went into this construction. Stairs led up to a porch, two columns on each side, a vine with open flowers wrapping around them was carved into each column. Beside the carved wooden doors were two round stain glass windows. The inside of the temple looked much larger than it did outside. A green carpet divided the building in two and ran up twords the front. Elaborate benches lined both sides with a 5 foot aisle on each side. three doors were on each side of the main hall, small rooms for special temple purposes. Up front was a podium on a raised platform. A large 6 ft diamater window, identical in design to those at the entrance in the center up high. two gold chandelier hung from the high ceiling lighting what the windows didnt.  
As the group entered, they saw a man sitting in the floor behind the podium cross-legged and in deep meditation. When the doors had opened, he released his breath and stood up to face the four. Pyoro was a short for a sun elf, just above 5 foot. Copper hair and golden tan skin marked his culture; and he was dressed in a high-collared sleeveless tan silk tunic embroidered with the symbol of the town deity and green trousers. A hooded night-black woolen cloak sat on his shoulders. On his belt was a finely crafted mithil mace, religious runes decorating the metal. The magical aura of divine magic mixed with the sunlight filtering in around him thru the stain glass window.  
Inriia's step slowed, the sorceress somewhat uncomfortable in a temple, as she studied every nook and cranny. The others strode rather confidently twords the front, Masque taking lead again. the priest stepped down floor level to greet the strange bunch .

"May the light illumine you" greeted Masque with no hesitation, "You must be Pyoro; we are those the druidess has hired to take care of this 'situation'. Please tell us what must be done."

"Yes, I am Pyoro, town priest and school teacher. And I had been expecting a few from _Nymilja_ would make a stop by here soon."  
He glanced to Cassio and Lynet who were known by the priest and nodded a greeting in acknowledgment of them. His glance, or more a glower, turned to his dark skinned cousin who eventually turned her crimson eyes to the priest. He had already met her, not that she knew, when _Nymilja _brought her in. He had been surprised how correct that druidess' assessment been of the sorceress, not that he would admit it. The druidess also mention a few other things no one would understand how she would know. Mostly how trying on one's patience the drowess would be, tho how great the outcome would be if this quest succeeded. He had a mental laugh of pity to the group and gave thanks for him not being the one to put up with this dark elf.

Getting right to business, clearing his throat, "yes. I have a magical bag for this object, tho how you plan to get it in without touching is another matter. I suspect someone will be clever enough to figure it out," handing Lynet a unremarkable bag with a feint magic aura. Rubbing his chin, "I suspect _Nymilja _has told you the task and have made enough preparations?"

"Remove the man and take his new found toy," Inriia replied offhandedly looking around the temple nonchalantly, her foot tapping softly.

She thought to say more of this, but held back this time. Get the facts and get out of this place was on her mind, shifting her weight again onto the other foot. Which reminded her, she did need a new horse. Her last one ended up taking her down as it fell, her on it's back still.

Lynet nodded to her former teacher, placing the bag in her own pack while trying to hold her temper at the mouth of the dark elf. "she wants us to bring back the man with hopes of curing him."

"She did mention dragon ghost..." Cassio spoke likewise holding his frustration.

Pyoro nodded to the couple, tho he had nagging doubts bringing the man back alive would be possible, much less heal the madness that had overtaken him. But he wasnt going to crush the optimism of his former student. Life usually stole hope from people and holding onto it as long as possible was a gift the veteran priest had lost. He finished discussing strategies and what they would expect; reviewing the map and route as well as advice for handling ghost.

Taking charge once again, Masque produced a small satchel from somewhere inside his cloak and tossed itto Lynet, "fill these bottles with as much holy items as possible." Turning to Cassio, "Go acquire the swiftest horses you can." He seemed to spit up the young drowess's name, "Inriiaynrae... I will leave you to do what you do best. Pyoro and I are going to have a little chat," Masque spoke the last in a semi-threatening tone.

the couple looked to each other as Masque seam to take upon himself to lead the group. And for a second, Cassio considered debating with him about it; he had been recruited well before this Masque man showed up, and knew the druidess for as long as he'd been living in Bitterleaf. Feeling the same, yet trying to keep things from becoming volatile, Lynet's hand had reached up to the crook of her man's arm in a calming effect before she took the satchel and headed out. Cassio paused to stare hard at the man before him, this Masque, chewing his lip then with an audible sigh exited the temple and headed for the stables. Inriia by this time was already heading out. She didnt necessarily ignore him, but she didnt acknowledge his response to her.

**XXOXX**

Masque grabbed the priest and led him to a small private side room. When pulled into the room, his instincts carried a hand to the mace on his belt and prepared to defend himself, stopping when the man began to speak.

"You will remain quiet about this conversation. the Order doesn't take kindly to those who reveal what happens behind closed doors. I will not coat words. This farmer may not survive this encounter, but I will do my best to purify and purge this spirit from him. But I may need your aid in something else," his expression and countenance softening slightly. Masque produced a scroll from his cloak and handed it to Pyoro. "Research the origins of this..."

The priest just listened; he knew and would keep such matters private, understanding what Masque was asking him to do. He took the scroll from Masque carefully, nodding. "I will begin immediately," pulling forth a small vial and handing it to Masque before motioning twords the door.

When Masque was finished speaking to Pyoro he exited the room and located Lynet. The cleric was speaking with Pyoro's apprentice and one of her former peers, gathering a good number of holy waters as well as other needs she would have use of.

"We may leave now. And I thank you for your patience and cooperation," Masque replied with a quick bow of appreciation before he walked through the main temple door, hoping to find Cassio and Inriia waiting with horses. He knew time was running out for the poor farmer.

**XXOXX**

Cassio grumbled as he walked, kicking a few pebbles along the way. the stable manager walked out of his little office, towel drying off his hand as the warrior approached. He snapped fingers to get his daughter's attention who headed twords the pen that contained a number of horses of many colors and various sized.  
"'Ight, what can I do you for?" the grungy looking man asked, heavy accented.  
"Four horses for travel," handing a paper to the man that the druidess had given him earlier.  
the man read it, with difficulty, then called back in some strange dialect the warrior didnt recognize, to saddle four mounts. Another girl carried the tack and set it where her sister was tying the first horse. It didnt take the daughters long and the mounts tied to the hitching post were ready for their journey. In Cassio's right hand was the reigns to a palomino and a dabbled grey horse, his left a bay and black horse.

Cassio found Inriia off by herself standing on the bridge. She had been leaning over the edge staring down into the dark water. Hood over her head and the piwafwi tight around her, none crossing over knew it was the dark elf in their town. Her thoughts couldnt help but drift to those years of torment.  
"I killed you for what you did to me," a hoarse whisper came from the sorceress, "Why are you not dead? How can you still be alive in my head when I killed you? Why do you still haunt me?"

She would allow no tears, no weakness even while alone. Instead a wall of numbness and apathy went up in her mind, her mask of survival back into place. A shake of her head to clear away the fuzzy cobwebs. Boots and hoofs drew near and she turned to be greeted by Cassio who handed her the reigns to the black horse then he continued on to the temple.

Lynet and Masque did find the other two waiting, saddled horses ready to go. The bay was handed to Masque, the dappled gray handed to Lynet and he took the palomino.

"Any of you who want to turn back do so now. And to clear the air, so to speak, I will not hide my dislike for some of you," he looked to Inriia as he said the last, "but each of us has been collected her for a higher purpose," Masque spoke then jumped up into the saddle and nudged his horse into movement, riding off in the direction of the Dragon Graveyard. The other three followed suit, leading their horses into a canter and heading out of Bitterleaf.


End file.
